


We're Not There Yet

by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so



Series: An Unofficial Introduction to the Avengers [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Hopeful Ending, the third in the series, waaaay angstier than the first two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so/pseuds/Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_so
Summary: “Reaching for the door, Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, the sound muffled.Tony snorts. “You know me so well, kid.”OR: The real reason why Peter Parker never made Tony Stark's A-team.





	We're Not There Yet

**Author's Note:**

> No Major Character Deaths, but be warned anyway.

\--- _One Hour After the Accident_ \---

Everything feels surreal, like Peter is stuck in some twisted, messed up dream. His senses are dialed up to triple digits, but it’s like they’re only registering certain things, and filtering the rest out. 

He can here the squeaking of the gurney wheels on the floor of the compound. He can feel his heart beating fast enough to kill him. He can see his feet pounding against the ground as he chases the gurney. 

But that’s all he registers. The rest of the world is completely black.

The gurney turns into a room. Peter swerves to follow, but hands catch him, hold him back. He looks up and finds himself staring into Rhodey’s face. There are tears on it. Only then does Peter realize he’s crying, too.

“Let me past,” he tells Rhodey. He’s surprised by how calm his voice is, all things considered. But there’s a dangerous edge to the words, one that Nat would be proud of.

“You did a great job today, Peter,” Rhodey says, not moving out of the way. “Kid, Tony would be . . . Tony is so proud of you. But you have to let Bruce and Strange work their magic, no pun intended.”

“He’d want me in there!” Peter says, and his voice rises to a yell. 

“Kid,” says Rhodey, and there’s more pain in his voice than Peter’s ever heard. “He can’t make that call right now.”

 

\--- _Ten Years Before The Accident_ \---

The call comes for Uncle Ben at 8:48 PM, EST. It must be Ben’s boss or something, because Ben gets really white and pulls May out into the hall.

Peter watches them from the keyhole. He’s worried; May is crying. Ben is crying too, and after a while they stop talking and just hold each other. That’s when Peter knows everything will be okay, because May and Ben love each other in a way that even his parents don’t.

Speaking of his parents, they’ll be home soon, Peter thinks. Ben said they boarded their flight a few hours ago. They might even be back in time to listen to Ben read him a bedtime story.

May comes in after a few minutes. She’s doing that thing she does, where she pretends she wasn’t upset for Peter’s sake. He appreciates the gesture in theory; when May cries, he tends to cry. But there’s no point lying to him, because he _saw_ her and he knows something is wrong.

“Ben’s going out for a little while,” May tells him. Her gaze has so much love in it. She looks at him in a way that no one else does. His mom doesn’t even look at him like that, but that’s not his mom’s fault. She’s really busy, with her whole science career and everything.

“Okay,” Peter says. He wants to protest, because Ben hasn’t read him a bedtime story and no one can read like Ben can. But May is upset. So he can handle going to bed without finding out what Harry and Ron and Hermione are doing.

He waits up for Ben, and for his parents too. May must be really upset, because she doesn’t tell him to go to bed, not even when the clock reaches eleven. 

Half an hour later, the door opens. It’s Ben, and he’s looking more tired than Peter has ever seen him. 

May jumps to her feet, shaking slightly. Ben nods at her, his eyes brimming with tears, and May sniffs and drifts restlessly into the kitchen, away from them.

“Hey, Pete,” says Ben, moving over to the couch. “I brought you a present.”

Peter is tired. His eyes feel really heavy, but he looks over at Ben anyway. Ben pulls an Iron Man mask out of his backpack. It’s not a real one, of course, but its super cool, and it looks pretty realistic considering its plastic.

“Thanks, Ben!” 

Peter reaches out and slides it over his face with shaking hands. He feels better, once it’s on. Iron Man is so cool.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Peter,” Ben says. He reaches out and grabs Peter’s hands in his own. 

“They’re dead. Aren’t they?” is all Peter says.

Peter is a really smart kid, and he knows all about death from the time he found his fish floating upside down in the bowl. He thinks he’s known what happened for a while. Hours, even. Maybe ever since Ben got that call. But it’s only after he puts on the mask that he can be brave about it. Because what would Iron Man do in a situation like this?

 

\--- _Two Hours After The Accident_ \---

In situations like this, the helplessness is overwhelming. Peter paces back and forth in the hallway outside the medlab. People drift past. The doctors and nurses don’t pay him much mind. One stops and tries to stitch up the gaping wound on his forehead, but Peter shoves the hands away.

Peter’s wearing SI sweatpants and a tee-shirt. He’s not entirely sure when he changed, or what happened to his suit. The past few hours are a complete blur, like he’s trapped in the middle of a tornado.

Rhodey and Pepper are hovering somewhere near him. They talk in low voices for a while, glancing at him every now and then. Peter doesn’t care. He can’t find it in himself to respond when they try to talk to him. He just walks back and forth along the hallway, trying not to think.

The rest of the Avengers drift in and out. Nat is the only one who talks to him. She brings him hot chocolate and forces him into a chair so she can stitch up the wound on his forehead. Peter’s body doesn’t register the pain, or the voices, or the lights, or anything really.

“He’s in shock,” he hears Natasha say, but it’s as though they’re both underwater. He can hear the words, but they don’t make sense, and he’s not even sure what she’s talking about.

It’s only when Bruce and Strange exit the medbay that Peter remembers what’s going on. Peter rushes towards them. He can feel their blood pressure, see the way they breathe, and he knows in an instant that it’s bad.

“We had to leave,” Bruce says. “We were doing more harm than good in there.”

“The doctors are competent. They’ll do everything they can,” Strange says, but he’s not smiling. 

Pepper shoves her way forward. Her stilettos put her a good two inches above Bruce, and he takes a step back at the look on her face.

“ _Is he okay_?” Pepper snarls. “Is he going to be okay?”

Strange’s voice is flat. “All we can do now is wait.”

 

\--- _Eight Years Before The Accident_ \---

Waiting is something that Peter hates.

He’s waited two years for his parents to come back. Even though he knows in his heart they never will, even though May and Ben take such good care of him, he still looks for them through the keyhole every time the doorbell rings. 

He waits for the day he is old enough to apply to Midtown STEM school, because the science textbooks in his third grade class are almost twenty years old, and distressingly basic. 

He waits for Ben and May to come home from work, his entire body shaking with unshed tears as his babysitter, Skip, puts an arm around him and whispers things to him.

It seems to him like so much of his life is about waiting. He waited for nine months after Ben got the tickets to this Stark Expo. And now that they’re here, it gets cut short when giant robots invade the place.

So when Ben finds a safe nook for Peter to hide in and tells him to “Wait here,” Peter isn’t really having it. 

Ben gives Peter a small smile, pulls out his gun and badge, and heads back into the fray. Peter does wait, for all of thirty seconds, before he’s following Ben. He’s never seen a robot up close, but he can hear people screaming around him and he knows that Iron Man would never do this.

Peter isn’t scared, not even when the giant robot lands in front of him and raises a hand to blast him. He’s wearing his Iron Man mask, so why would he be afraid?

Peter raises his hand, too. He couldn’t protect his parents. He can’t even protect himself, not from death or Skip or anything. But he can protect Ben, and everyone else at Stark Expo.

The blast goes off. The robot falls.

“Nice shot, kid,” Iron Man ( _Iron Man!_ ) says, and then he’s gone, flying off into the night. The burned robot lies on the ground in front of Peter, the only proof that Tony Stark was ever there at all.

 

\--- _Seven Hours After The Accident_ \---

There’s no proof that Tony Stark is even injured, Peter thinks. Sure, Peter watched the blast go off, watched the rubble and debris cover him. Sure, he held on to the motionless body, screaming for someone to come and help him. But the bits and pieces in Peter’s memory don’t make sense. Why wasn’t Tony wearing the Iron Man suit? Peter isn’t Iron Man. There’s no logical reason why it would be on him instead of Tony.

He comes to the logical conclusion that he’s very mistaken, that Tony Stark can’t possibly be an inch away from death. It just doesn’t make any sense. So why is he still in surgery?

People move around him in the hallway in front of the medbay. They try to give him food and water, try and tell him to sleep. But Peter’s spidey sense tells him not to move, so he stays exactly where he is. 

Its seven hours before the surgeons come out to talk to Pepper. What they tell her makes her cry, and suddenly Peter is seven years old again, staring through the keyhole of Ben and May’s apartment.

But Pepper hugs the doctor, so it must not be too bad.

Pepper comes over and kneels down next to him. He’s slumped against the wall, not moving, and she reaches out and brushes the sweaty curls off of his forehead. Peter can’t find it in himself to push her hand away.

“We can go in and see him now,” Pepper tells him quietly.

Peter’s breath hitches. “Will he—,”

“They don’t know, sweetheart,” Pepper says, tears welling up in her eyes. “Only time will tell.”

 

\--- _One Year Before The Accident_ \---

The only time Peter ever calls Mr. Stark ‘Tony,’ he hates it. They’re in the middle of fighting aliens (aliens!) that vaguely resemble marshmallows, but are acidic enough to burn through metal like its chocolate.

He calls him ‘Tony’ a few times for the sake of all the other Avengers (Avengers!) that are present. He doesn’t want them to know he’s a kid, especially since it’s the first time he’s ever fought with them. The thing in Germany didn’t count. Now he has a chance to show them all that he’s a teammate, not just some little kid they have to babysit.  
After the battle is over, Mr. Stark brings him back to the labs to fix the parts of the suit that were melted by marshmallow acid. He even lets Peter help him with the Iron Man suit, which is insane.

They make small talk for a little while, but something is bothering Mr. Stark. Peter waits, because Mr. Stark isn’t the kind of guy to beat around the bush.

Sure enough, they’ve barely started repairing the wiring when he says something.

“You can call me Tony full time, you know,” he says casually, but Peter knows better. “It doesn’t have to be something you only say when you want to add a few years onto your age.”

“Mr. Stark,” says Peter dryly.

“C’mon, kid,” says Tony, rolling his eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” says Peter.

Tony’s shoulders tighten slightly, but he brushes it off as no big deal. “I guess you can do whatever you want. Anyway, see this chip here? It controls the mainframe of the suit. This thing ever goes down, say goodbye to heating, cooling, hell, even Karen. You’ll basically be dancing around in a pair of expensive pajamas. And—,”

“Wait,” Peter says, his heart plummeting. “Are you upset that I don’t call you Tony?”

Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. “Kid—,”

“No, wait,” says Peter. His throat is unusually dry—maybe he should drink water or something. Suddenly he can’t meet Mr. Stark’s eyes. 

Mr. Stark looks at him curiously.

“Have I ever told you about Ben?” asks Peter. It’s a stupid question, because of course he hasn’t. Peter loves Ben, loves him more than he ever loved anything. But the guilt that rises in his throat every time he thinks about that night—

Peter clears his throat. “Right. Ben. I lived with him for eight years. Two years longer than I lived with my . . . my parents. I never called him dad, or anything like that, you know? That didn’t mean I thought of him as just an uncle, or anything. But in a way, I’d been calling him Uncle Ben for so long that calling him anything else would’ve been a disservice. Because we both knew what I meant, even if no one else did.”

Mr. Stark is looking everywhere but at Peter. He’s frantically adjusting the settings on the Iron Man suit, and Peter realizes suddenly that trying to explain himself to Mr. Stark was a mistake.

“Forget it,” he says, making sure his tone is casual. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” says Tony firmly, and Peter feels the sudden urge to clarify what he’s trying to say.

“I call you Mr. Stark because it’s more significant to me then calling you Tony ever could be,” Peter says. “It’s not a formality, Mr. Stark.”

“I know,” says Tony, and he meets Peter’s eyes. “Thanks, kid.”

 

\--- _Ten Days After The Accident_ \---

Peter knows something is wrong when Bruce and Strange practically drag him out the medbay. He’s barely left Tony’s side in ten days. People bring him food and water. When he sleeps, he does so in the chair beside Tony’s bed. He’s showered three times, returning to the medbay immediately after he’s finished.

“Sit down,” says Bruce quietly. He looks like he’s trying hard not to cry. Strange’s face is a mask. Peter wonders distantly how many time’s he’s had this conversation.

“Peter,” Strange says. “He’s been brain dead for five days.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Peter snaps, and his throat is dry. “I don’t care. You can’t just _unplug_ him like he’s a machine.”

“Essentially, he is,” says Strange. “The machines are doing everything for him, Peter. If this were a normal hospital, he would’ve been let go forty-eight hours ago.”

“Strange,” says Bruce harshly. “You have to be gentle about this.”

Peter glares at Strange. He must be getting better at his death glares, because Strange actually takes a step back.

“You. Can’t. Unplug. Him,” says Peter through gritted teeth. “I won’t let you.”

“Ultimately, it’s not up to you,” says Strange. “It’s up to Pepper, but she refuses to give her consent until you give the okay.”

“If it were you in that bed, he’d be doing everything he could to save you,” Peter snarls. He reaches forward, ready to shove Strange as hard as he can, but Bruce holds him back. “ _And you won’t even give him time_!”

Bruce is crying. “Peter, he’s gone.”

“If he were here, he’d find a way to fix it!”

“Maybe you’re right,” Strange says. “But I’m not Tony, Peter. I can’t—”

Strange looks more exhausted than Peter’s ever seen him. He slides into a chair and buries his face in his hands.

Peter crosses over to him slowly and sits beside him. He carefully rests a hand on Strange’s back, the same way Mr. Stark did to him all those months ago in Peter’s bedroom.

“Tony’s spent months teaching me how to fix things,” Peter says. “Bruce has seven PHDs. You’re a freaking brain surgeon, Doctor. Between the three of us, the coma doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Peter—,”

“No, he’s right,” says Bruce, and there’s a wild hope in his eyes. “He’s right, Strange. We have to try.”

Dr. Strange pauses slightly.

“What do you know about brain death?” asks Peter, standing up and beginning to pace. “Tell us everything, okay? Even if it doesn’t seem important.”

 

\--- _Twenty-Eight Days Before The Accident_ \---

“Stop ignoring me!” Peter yells. “This is important!”

He’s angrier at Tony then he’s ever been. There had been a fight between the Avengers and Hydra, in an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. And, alright, maybe ditching school hadn’t been the best course of action. But he’d been trying to help. He wanted to help.

He hadn’t been on the scene for five minutes before an Iron Man suit came out of nowhere, whisking him back to Avengers Tower.

“We had it handled,” says Tony coolly. “You weren’t missing anything, kid.”

“Then why didn’t you let me help?” Peter yells. “You benched me like I’m just some kid.”

Tony clenches his teeth and begins to pace the lab. “You _are_ just some kid.”

“Unbelievable,” Peter snarls. His voice falters, and his eyes drift down to the lab table.

“You don’t trust me.”

“What the fu—,” Tony breaks off. “Kid, I trust you more than most of the rest of our team. That’s not what this is about, and you know it.”

“No, I don’t know it!” Peter says loudly. “Because instead of talking to me, you had a freaking Iron Man suit carry me away like—,”

“If you’d just stayed in Queens like I _told you to_ . . .”

“I’m sixteen years old—,”

“We got a tip off that Hydra was luring us in,” Tony snaps. “There was a good chance that there was a bomb hidden somewhere on the premise, alright? I couldn’t have you near that, kid. So drop it.”

Peter’s mouth falls open.

“You could have died,” Peter says, slowly and deliberately. “Do you have any idea how I would’ve felt if I hadn’t been there to—,”

“To what, exactly?” Tony says. “Kid, if a bomb went off near you, all that’s between you and death is a couple of yards of spandex. My survival odds are over eighty percent higher.”

“You don’t get to make that choice for me!” Peter yells. 

“I’m not letting you die just because you’re too stubborn—,”

“You’re being really hypocritical—,”

“Stop,” says Tony, raising his hand. Peter hates how his mouth immediately snaps shut. “The number one mission the Avengers have right now is to keep you alive until you’re ready.”

The statement triggers everything from indignation to confusion inside Peter, but curiosity wins out.

“Until I’m ready to what?”

“You’re the future of the Avengers, kid,” Tony says. He sits back down on the stool and rubs a hand along his forehead. “No one knows exactly how you’re powers are going to develop as you get older, but Bruce thinks they’re going to get a hell of a lot stronger as you develop. Pair that with your moral compass . . . you’re going to lead the Avengers someday, kid. We all know it.”

Peter freezes, his eyes wide.

Tony isn’t done. “And what exactly is it that you think I’m doing here? I’m not just mentoring you, kid. I don’t know how much time I have left. Maybe forty years, but in this line of work something could happen and I could be dead next weekend.”

“Don’t say that,” Peter says, and his voice cracks. “Please.”

Tony laughs quietly. “I don’t have kids, Peter. So when I’m gone, you’re the future of Stark Industries. And you can’t take over the company if you died with me.”

Peter is breathing heavily. His brain feels like someone’s banging on his head with a hammer. He slides into a seated position on the floor of the lab, not entirely sure where he is.

“I don’t understand.”

Tony laughs. “You want to know why you can’t be on my A-team? Kid, when I die, it all goes to you. Stark Industries, Iron Man . . . you’re the only one I trust with it. That’s why I’ve been teaching you everything.”

“But I don’t want that, Mr. Stark,” Peter says, his voice catching in his throat. “Not if it means . . .”

Peter's not sure who reaches out, but suddenly his head is on Tony's shoulder and there's an arm wrapped around him.

“Reaching for the door, Mr. Stark?” he asks, the sound muffled.

Tony snorts. “You know me so well, kid.”

 

\--- _Twenty Days After The Accident_ \---

“I don’t know you,” says Peter flatly. “And I don’t owe you anything.”

The lawyer looks extremely uncomfortable. He keeps glancing at May as if he expects her to fly across the table of the conference room and beat him half to death.

With the fire in May’s eyes, Peter supposes anything is possible.

“Tony Stark was very thorough in his last will and testament,” the lawyer says uncomfortable. “Mr. Parker, Stark Industry stocks are dropping every day. The company is flailing. And legally speaking, there’s no way around the fact that Tony Stark made sure you were the sole owner in the case of his death.”

“He’s. Not. Even. Dead.”

“Not to mention my son is sixteen,” snaps May. “You can’t put this on him.”

The lawyer adjusts his tie uncomfortably. “When Howard Stark passed, Tony passed leadership of the company on to Mr. Obidayah Stane until he was ready to take ownership. If you wish to allow Ms. Potts—,”

“Mr. Stark isn’t dead yet,” repeats Peter through gritted teeth.

“I have to do something,” says the lawyer. “If you will simply allow me to release your name to the board, to persuade them that Mr. Stark did indeed have a backup plan—,”

“You do, you die,” says May viciously. 

“Mr. Stark is still alive,” Peter insists. “You’re acting like—,”

“Mr. Stark is brain dead,” says the lawyer thinly.

“For now,” Peter says. “We just need a little more time. We’re working on it.”

 

\--- _Two Days Before The Accident_ \---

“What are you working on?” Peter asks, sliding next to Mr. Stark on the couch. He has a file open in front of him, and his forehead is creased, but he looks up at Peter.

“There’s alleged hydra activity at a factory upstate,” Mr. Stark says distantly, exchanging a dark look with Natasha. Steve, Clint, and Sam also have files open in front of them, and Peter would bet anything that Wanda and Vision are off studying, too.

“Lit!” says Peter, and Sam makes an incoherent sound in the back of his throat. “Are you guys planning an infiltration?”

“Maybe,” says Natasha when Mr. Stark pointedly doesn’t answer.

Peter looks carefully at Mr. Stark. He doesn’t want to say anything too obvious, because Sam, Clint, and Steve still don’t know he’s Spiderman.

“Will you let me know before you leave?” he asks Mr. Stark.

Tony doesn’t hesitate. “No.”

Clint lets out a snort, but he’s buried in the file by the time Peter looks over at him.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter says insistently. “I’d really like to know before you leave.”

“Sorry, kid,” Tony says smoothly, flipping through the file. “Unfortunately, I’m not entirely sure when that will be. Wish I could tell you more.”

“Don’t be silly, Tony,” says Clint cheerfully. “We’re leaving Sunday. The file says so right here.”

Peter perks up. “Mr.—,”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” says Sam. “Just ask if you can go, already. We all know you’re Spiderman.”

Tony and Peter both freeze with identical horror. Natasha doesn’t look surprised, but she still glances up at him, her eyebrows raised.

“Who told you?” demands Tony, his voice low and harsh. 

Clint raises his eyebrows. “They sound exactly the same—,”

“They both make extremely poor dietary choices,” Sam continues.

“They’ve never been seen in the same room together,” Steve says.

“They’re both approximately the same age—,”

“Normal children don’t show up at the compound with bullet wounds—,”

“Alright,” says Tony, raising a hand. “We get it.”

Peter’s chest feels oddly tight. “You won’t tell anyone, right?”

“Don’t worry, kid,” says Sam, grinning. “Your secret is safe with us.”

“Back to the topic at hand,” says Clint formally. “Your child wanted to know if he could go on a mission with us, Tony, and you were shutting him down like a cruel bastard.”

Tony grits his teeth.

“You should let the kid go,” says Natasha, turning back to the file. “It will be good experience for him.”

Peter turns to look at Tony, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Nothing will happen to him,” says Steve firmly. “We’ll all be there to make sure he doesn’t get in over his head, Tony. He’s ready for this.”

 

\--- _Twenty-Two Days After The Accident_ \---

“We could electrically stimulate the prefrontal cortex,” says Peter absently to Strange and Bruce. They’re paging through books of neuroscience, just like they’ve been doing every day for fifteen days. It’s frustrating and tiring, but Peter hasn’t given up. He can’t.

“Too risky,” says Strange flatly. “Chances are, it wouldn’t do anything, and even if it did, it could fry some really important stuff.”

Peter slams the book shut.

“Come on, Peter,” says Bruce softly. He closes his book, too, and reaches up to pull Peter into a hug. “We can do this. We just have to have a little bit of patience.”

“He’s been unresponsive for fifteen days,” Peter says thickly, burying his face in Bruce’s shoulder. “We're out of time.”

“We’ll figure something out,” says Strange firmly, pulling another book off the shelf.

“Go home, Peter,” says Bruce. “You haven’t slept in days. You can come back in the morning. Strange and I will keep working, okay?”

Peter shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says dully. “I have to—,”

“Go,” says Strange firmly. “You’re not doing him any good right now. We need you at full power, Peter.”

“We won’t let him die while you’re gone,” Bruce agrees.

 

\--- _One Hour Before The Accident_ \---

“Don’t die,” Tony tells Peter firmly as the quinjet lands in a field adjacent to the abandoned factory. “Dear Jesus, please don’t die.”

The eyes of the Spiderman suit widen in surprise as Tony pulls him in for a hug. Tony rests his chin on the kid’s head for a few seconds, then pushes him away. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

“Oh no, don’t stop hugging on our account,” says Clint dryly. “Seriously, I’m getting cavities.”

“It wasn’t a hug,” says Mr. Stark coolly. “I was adjusting his suit.”

Natasha coughs pointedly.

“Alright,” Tony says, his mask flipping down to obscure his face. “Tasha, Clint, take out any agents around the perimeter. Steve, Sam, secure the basement and check for any hostages. Everyone else, fan out and work your way up the floors. Peter, you’re with me. We’re going in from the roof and working our way down.”

“How are we going to get up to the—,”

Tony grabs him under the arms and accelerates into the air.

It’s a nice view, watching the other Avengers rush the building from up in the sky. Sure, it’s a little humiliating being carried like this, but Peter doesn’t really mind. Tony drops him onto the roof, and he tucks his body into a roll, popping up to his feet and webbing a machine gun away from a hydra agent.

“You shouldn’t play with that,” he says cheerfully. “It’s dangerous.”

He can literally feel the other Avengers roll their eyes through the comm system, but he doesn’t care. Because he’s _here_ , fighting with them, and right now he doesn’t think there’s a better feeling in the world. 

He can here Tony engaging his thruster up above, and together they secure the roof. It’s exhilarating; quipping at the hydra agents, listening to Karen’s encouragement, fighting here with Tony fucking Stark. 

“Alright,” Tony tells him when the roof is secure. “Nice job, kid.”

“What now?” Peter asks breathlessly. 

Iron Man flies down to the metal door and pulls it off its hinges.

“Let’s go,” he says.

The staircase is narrow and dimly lit. Tony goes first, with Peter trailing behind him like a dog. They only encounter two hydra agents in their decent, both of whom turn on their heels and run away.

“We just let them go?” Peter asks.

Tony smiles sardonically. “They’ll run into Natasha sooner or later. Trust me, she’ll make sure they don’t leave.”

“You know me so well,” says Natasha softly through the comms. 

“She has a special vendetta against hydra since they turned out to be secretly running the organization she was working for,” explains Tony patiently to Peter.

“We don’t need to get into it,” Steve cuts in.

“ _He’s_ had a special vendetta since the Nazis—,”

Tony never finishes the sentence. The second he pushes open the door to a room, everything happens so fast Peter doesn’t have time to process.

Distantly he sees the bomb. He sees it blinking and flashing, and suddenly it’s speeding up—

(Doesn’t that mean it’s about to explode?)

And Tony is screaming for everyone to get out. He’s pushing Peter frantically towards the window, shoving him through it hard enough to shatter the glass.

(The Iron Man armor is wrapping around Peter. He wonders distantly how long he’s been wearing it.)

And then the bomb explodes. Peter and Tony are blasted backwards out the window.

(Tony isn’t wearing his armor anymore. Something must have happened to it, Peter thinks, but what?)

It feels like forever that they’re suspended in the air before they crash to the ground and the pile of rubble descends on top of them.

(Peter throws himself on top of Tony’s motionless body as the sky falls around them. It’s okay. He’s wearing an iron man mask—not the one he wore as a child to feel invincible, of course. He’s wearing the real one, now.)

Someone’s screaming. The screaming doesn’t stop until Peter’s throat is dry and scratched, and he closes his mouth.

 

\--- _Twenty-Two Days After The Accident_ \---

Peter screams when he enters his apartment.

Someone is sitting on his couch—someone who is decidedly not May. The man is middle aged, balding, and wearing a spotless suit. 

His spidey-sense isn’t going off, though. That’s weird, Peter thinks.

“Hello, Mr. Parker,” says the man, holding out his hand. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this. My name is Phil Coulson. I’m an agent of Shield.”

Peter knows that should mean something to him, but the only thing that registers is the organization name.

“So you’re hydra,” he says coldly, and he’s glad his web shooters are still on. “Good. I’ve been looking forward to having some words with you people.”

Phil doesn’t laugh, but he does look amused. “I’m defiantly not Hydra, Mr. Parker. I’m an old friend of Tony’s. Maybe he’s mentioned me?”

“Nope,” says Peter, but he pauses, because the name does sound familiar. “Hang on. Coulson, right? Weren’t you Nat’s handler?”

Phil pauses slightly, and a small smile spreads over his face.

“Yes,” he says quietly. “I managed both Mr. Barton and Ms. Romanov for many years.”

“You’re supposed to be dead,” says Peter, but he recognizes the man from the picture that Nat put on the fridge in the compound. Confusion hits him, hard and heavy. “Loki killed you, when he came to take over the world.”

Phil doesn’t stop smiling a pleasant smile, but he does blink at the accusation. “Yes,” he says finally. “I died.”

Peter glances down at his arms, as if expecting to see a ghost. “Am I dead, too?”

“What do you know about project TAHITI?” asks Phil, ignoring his question.

Peter frowns, shaking his head slightly.

“It was a program designed to rehabilitate a fallen Avenger,” says Phil. “By rehabilitate, of course, I mean bring back to life. Morally speaking, it’s very questionable—,”

“Does it work?” interrupts Peter. He can feel his heart pounding against his rib cage, and his throat is unusually dry.

“I was dead,” Phil says, once again ignoring his question. “I was dead for days, Mr. Parker. I came back.”

“You’re here about Mr. Stark, aren’t you?” says Peter eagerly. He drops his keys on the ground, slams the door behind him, and rushes over to where Phil is standing. “You know how to save him.”

“No,” Phil says firmly. “Sit down.”

Peter sits, breathing heavily.

“I’m here to warn you,” says Phil quietly, sitting on the couch besides Peter. “Fury made the executive order to bring me back from a place where no one should be brought back from. He should never have made that call.”

Peter’s whole body is shaking. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that there are certain things mankind shouldn’t be able to do,” says Phil. “There are lines we were never meant to cross, Mr. Parker. Death is one of those lines.”

“Mr. Stark isn’t dead,” Peter says firmly. He stands up, paces for a second, and returns to his seat. 

Phil looks at him with something akin to pity in his eyes.

“And you regret it,” says Peter quietly, a knot in his throat. “Coming back.”

Phil looks thoughtfully out the window. “Not exactly,” he says. “I met people, the second time. People who I consider to be my family. I never would’ve had that opportunity if I had died six years ago. But it doesn’t change the fact that it wasn’t Fury’s decision to make. He played God. There’s a reason why humans shouldn’t have this kind of power.”

“You want me to let him die.”

“No,” Phil corrects. “I want you to make sure that he’d want to be saved. And I want you to think very carefully before you answer, because there are significant consequences to playing God. Trust me. I know.”

Peter thinks for a moment. He thinks about the way Tony looks at Pepper, like she’s the only thing in the world that matters. He thinks about how Tony always picks up the phone when Peter calls, no matter if he’s in a business meeting or fighting hydra or anything in between. He thinks about how Tony trusted him enough to leave a sixteen year old kid _everything_.

“I’m sorry,” says Peter truthfully. “I have to try.”

Phil sighs.

“I don’t have children, Mr. Parker,” he says after a pause. “But a few years ago, a young woman who looks at me the way you look at Mr. Stark got shot. Twice. It was bad. In the end, I made the same call that Fury did for me. So I guess when it comes down to it, I’m no better than he is.”

Phil reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulls out a vial. He carefully sets it on the coffee table in front of Peter.

“There it is,” he says tiredly. “Project TAHITI. Do what you will with it.”

He slides a business card across the table towards Peter.

“If you do decide to use it, have Tony call me,” he says quietly. “There are certain side effects that he should know about.”

Peter’s mouth feels dry. “Like what?”

Phil gives a slight smile. “Tony’s been brain dead for twenty days, Mr. Parker. Just remember what I said about crossing lines.”

He closes the apartment door behind him. Peter reaches out a shaking hand to the vial before sinking down onto the couch and curling up in a ball.

 

\--- _Thirty Minutes After The Accident_ \---

Peter is curled around Tony when they finally dig them out of the rubble. The Iron Man suit survived the blast, but at first glance it looks like no one else did.

Rhodey places a hand on the suit, and it dismembers itself around Peter. He’s shaking, refusing to let go of Tony, his eyes wide and his chest heaving.

“I’ve got a pulse!” Clint yells, and suddenly Tony is being pulled out of Peter’s hands. He stumbles to his feet as Steve picks up Tony, practically sprinting back to the quinjet. 

“We’re going to need medical attention, ASAP,” says Natasha, her voice wavering more than Peter’s ever heard it. He stumbles after them, and Rhodey catches him, heaving him back to his feet. 

The quinjet ride back is a blur. Clint preforms CPR almost the entire flight home. Peter watches, his entire body trembling, unable to breathe.

A gurney is waiting for them when they land, Bruce and Strange at the head of it. 

“Peter, wait!” Rhodey calls, but Peter is already chasing after the gurney, listening to the sound of the wheels as they squeak along the compound floor.

His only thought is to catch up to Tony. 

 

\--- _Twenty-Three Days After The Accident_ \---

Peter’s only thought is selfish. 

He wants Tony to live. There’s a part of him that doesn’t care about the side effects, doesn’t care about the consequences of playing God.

He stands over the gurney, looking down at Tony’s face. He looks peaceful. The incubator beeps softly, the breathing machine rising and falling in time with Tony’s breath.

That’s all Tony is, now. The machines do everything for him.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter says quietly. “I know it’s too late for you to wake up on your own. Brain dead, and all that. Strange told me.”

He pulls a chair besides Tony’s bedside and takes his hand. 

Peter’s voice shakes.

“It’s funny, looking back on it,” he says. “I’ve been thinking a lot about those little pieces of advice you always gave me. You were gearing me for every possible situation SI could throw at me. But I still have no idea what you’d want me to do.”

Peter squeezes his hand.

“I couldn’t save Ben,” he says, his voice breaking. “The mugger came out of nowhere, Mr. Stark. I couldn’t save him. But I can save you, now. Please, just give me a sign that it’s the right call.”

The room is absolutely still. 

Peter’s read Strange’s books, he knows the odds. After day one of complete brain death, it’s an eight percent chance of survival. After day two, it’s less than one percent.

By day three, there’s a zero percent chance of survival. 

There’s been no sign of brain activity for twenty-one days.

Tony is dead. The realization hits Peter like a ton of bricks. The machines are what’s alive, they’re the ones breathing.

“You said you were preparing me to make the tough choices when you no longer could,” Peter whispers. “You said that’s why you put me on your A-team. I guess I have to make this call.”

He lets go of Tony’s hand and turns away.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.”

 

\--- _Epilogue_ \---

“Stop apologizing, kid,” says Tony. He stares thoughtfully at Peter from the hospital bed. “That’s quite a story.”

Peter scoots his chair closer to the bed. He’s crying, he thinks. He can feel the wetness on his face, and he leans closer to Mr. Stark. 

“I really missed you,” he says, his voice cracking.

“No shit,” smirks Tony. “How long has it been, again?”

“Twenty eight days,” says Peter. “A little less than a month.” 

Dum-ee beeps happily from beside them

“So,” Tony says casually. “Phil Coulson is alive, huh? What a bastard.” 

Peter lets out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Still, not the craziest part of the tale I was blessed with upon my awakening,” says Tony snarkily, rolling his eyes and leaning back onto his pillows. “You were that kid from the Stark Expo, huh? Guess you’ve always had a death wish.”

Peter’s eyes widen, and his fists clench around the armrests of his chair. “You _hypocrite_ . . .”

“Relax, kid. I’m joking.”

Peter’s eyes drift back down to the floor.

Tony glances down, too.

"You're still not on my A-team," he says quietly. "You're so much better than that, kid. Jesus. You're going to rule the world some day, you know that?"

"Mr. Stark -,"

“Will you stop crying?” says Tony, a little desperately. “Come here, kid. Jesus.”

Peter wraps his arms around Tony, leaning into the hug. He lets his eyes close for a second; he’s ready to stop worrying.

“I assume you’re just stretching, and this isn’t a hug?” asks Peter, his voice muffled by Tony’s shoulder.

Tony snorts, and Peter can practically feel his eyes roll.

“No, kid. This is a hug. We’re there. Jesus.”

_Last night I dreamed we had a kid. So real._

**Author's Note:**

> I was so not expecting the series to blow up the way it did! Thank you all so, so much for your support. I know this wasn't as fluffy as the first two in the series, but this was always my endgame.
> 
> Thanks, you guys. Seriously.
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: I also created a tumblr for my Ao3 account. If you guys want to follow me, the link is [ here ](https://isnt-it-pretty-to-think-so-tr.tumblr.com/) .


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